His Plaything - Proposition Read online

  “I'm positive.” Jill could see Max was on edge. “The caterers have it all in hand.”

  “Okay. I'm sorry if I bit your head off.” Max managed a smile. “I just want everything to go okay.”

  “I know. I don't think you need worry though. Everything's in place - even that stupid thing!” Jill gestured towards the sculpture which was on a plinth at the far side of the reception area.

  “Is it just me?” Max said. “Or is that thing butt ugly?”

  “It's butt ugly, but I don't think you should say that when the others arrive.”

  “It's okay. I won't let Carl hear me dissing his brain child. I'm sure he will think it's brilliant.” (Carl Rice thought everything was brilliant)

  “You'd better not let Jewell hear you either,” Jill said.

  “Tom Jewell?”

  “Didn't you know? He has an invite.”

  “Who from? Why?”

  “Apparently Carl Rice sent him one. Carl said it would be brilliant to have him at the launch in case anyone asks questions about the sculpture.”

  “Like – what's this pile of shit doing in here?”

  Jill laughed.

  “I doubt he'll come,” Max said. “He's too far up his own arse to pay a visit to the real world.”

  “You really don't like him do you?”

  “I hate men like him. So very full of their own self importance. I bet he's never done a real day's work in his life.”

  Max hadn't noticed the sudden change of expression on Jill's face.

  “Hitting a lump of stone with a chisel isn't real work.”

  The realisation dawned that Jill was trying to tell her something. Even before she turned around, Max knew who was standing behind her.

  “Good morning Ms Lewis.” Even his greeting had more than a hint of condescension about it.

  Once again, Max's face was beetroot red. Was there anything she could say to explain away her last few words? She knew there wasn't.

  “Good morning Mr Jewell.” She couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. “You're a little early. The launch party doesn't start for over an hour.”

  “Mr Rice requested I come in at this time, so I could check the piece is positioned for optimum effect.”

  “Oh yes – of course.” She fought to keep a straight face. “Optimum effect? Of course. The sculpture is over there.”

  The look he gave her was priceless.

  How many more times could she put her foot in her mouth?

  “Thank you for pointing that out Ms Lewis. I might not have found it amongst all the other sculptures,” he sneered. “I'll let you know if it needs to be moved.”

  Max nodded; she no longer trusted herself to say anything intelligible.

  ************

  Minutes later, Max was back in her office. When Jill walked in, she found Max with her head in her hands.

  “Are you okay?”

  “It's that man - Jewell. Whenever I'm around him, my brain seems to go to mush.”

  “You didn't tell me he was hot.”

  “Is he? I hadn't noticed,” Max lied. “I told you he was arrogant though. He's patronising too.”

  “You did rather insult his work.”

  “I did, didn't I?”

  “I tried to warn you.”

  “Oh well. Never mind. Once the launch party is over, I will never have to see him again. Bloody stupid sculpture...”

  This time Max spotted Jewell before she had the chance to wedge her foot in her mouth again.

  “Do come in Mr Jewell.” He already had.

  “The current position simply won't do,” he said.

  “What's wrong with it?” She didn't have time for this bullshit.

  “I'll get back to my desk.” Jill excused herself. Max couldn't miss the smirk on Jill's face.

  “It's the wrong way around,” Jewell said.

  “How can you tell?”

  She'd said the words before she could stop herself. Why, oh why did she keep doing this?

  “Ms Lewis. You may think there is nothing more to my art than hitting a piece of stone with a chisel, but then I wouldn't really expect someone like you to have a refined eye...”

  “Someone like me?”

  “Other more discerning individuals, your Mr Rice for instance, will recognise your mistake.”

  ************

  This guy was really starting to get on her tits now. She would have loved to give him both barrels, but the launch party was less than an hour away, and the other guests would be arriving soon. It might not be such a good idea for them to find her having a stand-up swearing match with Jewell.

  “Fine! Please show me exactly how you wish it to be positioned, and I'll call maintenance to have them send some men up here.”

  Max knew exactly where she would like to position it – sidewards!

  Eventually, after much shuffling back and forth, Jewell was satisfied his masterpiece was ideally positioned. For the life of her, Max couldn't see what difference the move had made, but she bit her tongue, and said nothing.

  Over the next hour, the visitors began to arrive. Max was on hand at the door to greet them; Jill was at her side offering drinks to everyone. The crowd was a mix of existing clients with offices in the North, potential clients who had been tempted by the offer of free food and drink, and the directors and senior management from London. Carl Rice arrived wearing his trademark tartan suit. He obviously thought he looked cool and sophisticated. Max thought he looked like a tool. He made a beeline for the sculpture. He and Jewell grabbed anyone who passed by, so they might bore them with the story behind the piece.

  Was it her imagination or did Jewell keep staring at her? Max tried to ignore him as she mingled with the guests. What was the matter with the man? He was still probably pissed at her for the way she had described his work – sorry – his art. She wondered if he had told Carl Rice about her comments.

  ************

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Leo Moore was standing at the front of the room – next to the sculpture. Leo was the Managing Director of Mullers, and the driving force behind the business. Max had a lot of time for Leo, and he obviously rated her because he had personally selected her to run the Manchester office.

  “Welcome to the launch of our new office,” Moore said. “It's great to see so many familiar faces here today.”

  Leo was something of a show man. He managed to add just the right number of amusing anecdotes to keep the audience interested and amused. Max was standing close to the front, ready to step forward when Leo eventually got around to introducing her as the head of the new office.

  “Did you think about my invitation?”

  The words were whispered, but Max recognised his voice immediately. Jewell was standing at her right shoulder.

  “Invitation?”

  “I gave you my card. Remember?”

  Max said nothing.”

  “I meant what I said about your body.”

  Now, she turned and stared at Jewell. Had she heard him correctly?

  “I can usually tell. But seeing you today in that outfit – I know now that my first instincts were correct. You would be the perfect model.”

  Max was wearing a white blouse and a knee length black skirt. Nothing particularly revealing.

  “You're off your head.”

  “I could do wonders with your breasts.” His gaze was fixed on her chest – again! Max felt like he was undressing her with his eyes – she glanced around to see if anyone else was looking at them. Everyone was engrossed by Leo and his anecdotes.

  “Come to my studio tonight at eight.”

  “You can go fu...”

  Before she could finish telling Jewell where to get off, Leo Moore said, “I am pleased to introduce Max Lewis who will be running our Manchester office.”

  Max stepped forward and took the microphone.

  The launch party lasted almost two hours. Max tried to catch Jewell by himself, so she could tell him what she thoug
ht of him and his proposition. It proved impossible; the man was always talking to someone, usually with Carl Rice at his side.

  “Where's Jewell?”

  “He's gone,” Jill said. “I saw him leave about fifteen minutes ago. Is there a problem?”

  “No. It's nothing.”

  “The launch seemed to go okay. Leo seemed happy with everything.”

  “What? Oh yeah.”

  Weeks of planning had been spoiled. Instead of being able to sit back and enjoy the fruits of all her hard work, Max had spent the whole time thinking about what Jewell had said. She was still angry that he'd had the cheek to ask her to model for him. Who did he think he was? Who did he think she was? It was over now, she told herself. She need never see or even think of Tom Jewell again.

  Chapter 4

  “I'm really sorry Max. I know I should have warned you.”

  Max and Chrissie had agreed each would give the other two days warning if they planned to invite more than three other people to the apartment. That would give the other enough time to make arrangements to go out. So far, the system had worked just fine, but today Chrissie had forgotten to tell Max she'd invited four friends from work for dinner.

  “They'll be gone by eleven – midnight at the latest. You're welcome to join us.”

  Max was none too pleased. After the stress of the office launch party, she had hoped for a quiet night. What could she do? She could hardly insist on enforcing the agreement by throwing Chrissie’s friends onto the street. On the other hand, she didn't want to join a dinner party with people she didn't know.

  “It's okay. I'll go out,” she said with as much good grace as she could muster.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it's fine. I'll give Jill from work a call.” It was a lie.

  Max made her way out of the apartment block, and wondered what she would do until midnight. Thirty minutes later, she was driving around the centre of Manchester. She hated the idea of going to a bar or restaurant by herself; it smacked of lonely and desperate. The cinema was a possibility, but she had no idea if there was anything on which she would enjoy. There again, she knew she would get strange looks when she asked for a single ticket. She might as well tell them she was a leper.

  ************

  Max had been driving around aimlessly for twenty minutes when it suddenly occurred to her where she was. Jewell's studio was only half a mile from there. Why had she driven this way? It wasn't a route she would normally take. Then it dawned on her – this was her chance to give him a piece of her mind. She hadn't been able to catch him on his own that morning – this was her opportunity. She knew he would be in his studio because he had asked her to come around at eight – it had just turned seven forty five. It would do her the power of good to let rip, and tell him exactly what she thought of him. The pompous prick could do with taking down a peg or two, and she was in just the mood to do it.

  The complex which housed his studio was much quieter at that time of night than it had been on her previous visit. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. But then, where else would she go? She had four hours to kill and precious little to do. Tearing Mr Tom Jewell down a peg or two would be fun, and might even give her an appetite. She could go wild and treat herself to a burger afterwards.

  By the time she had reached the door of his studio, a million and one doubts had surfaced. The bravado she had felt while in the car was slowly evaporating. What kind of shit-crazy idea was this? What good did she think it would do? The man was way too full of himself to take any notice of anything she might say to him.

  “Ms Lewis. You're a little early. Don't worry. Early is good. Come on in.”

  “No. I...”

  “Don't stand in the doorway; you will let the cold in.” He stepped aside. “I can't keep calling you Ms Lewis. What did you say your name was?”

  “Max, but...”

  “You may call me Tom. The important thing is not to be nervous.”

  “Nervous?”

  “It's only natural. All of my models are nervous the first time.”

  “No. You've got it all wrong. That's not why I...”

  “Let me take your jacket.” He already had hold of it.

  “I didn't come here to...” She slipped the jacket off.

  “Fabulous.” He moved closer – his nose was almost on her breasts now. “You have the most delightful figure. There's a curtain over there – you can undress behind that if you wish.”

  “Are you crazy? I'm not getting undressed. I didn't come here to model for you.”

  “Why did you come then?”

  Max didn't respond. It was a good question - why had she come? To vent? Was that the real reason?

  “You have a beautiful body, but then I assume men tell you that all of the time.” His voice had lost some of its edge.

  When was the last time a man had told her she had a beautiful body? That was an easy question to answer – Never! In the back of her mind, she wondered if he was playing some kind of cruel joke. And yet, he sounded sincere. Hearing someone say she was beautiful felt good – even if they were only interested in her for artistic purposes.

  “If it helps, you can leave on your underwear. I can work with that for the initial shape. Then later... we'll see what happens.”

  Why was she still in the studio? Why didn't she leave?

  Max walked across to the curtain which had been hung in one corner of the room to create a small makeshift dressing room. Once behind the curtain, she stared at the full length mirror which had a crack in the top right hand corner. Any minute now, she would wake up in her bed. This had to be a dream – didn't it?

  “I'm not sure about this.” Her voice was barely audible from behind the curtain.

  “No need to be shy. I'm an artist.”

  You're also a man she thought, but didn't say. She supposed that it might be kind of cool to have someone make a sculpture of her. No one else need ever know. Max began to undo the buttons on her blouse.

  ************

  “Excellent. Just as I thought. Perfect proportions.” He held up a pencil, closed one eye, and studied her from head to foot. Max had stripped to bra and panties, and was standing with her arms over her breasts. The floor was cold to her bare feet.

  “Such fine skin tone.”

  He walked slowly around her; she felt even more vulnerable when he was out of sight.

  “Your back is exquisite.”

  A shiver ran through her body as he slid his finger down her spine, stopping just above her panty line.

  “Take a seat over there.” He pointed to a wooden stool in the opposite corner of the room. They were on the third floor, so at least no one could see in through the windows.

  She wondered if he could see she was trembling. From beneath a workbench, he produced a white sketch pad, and began to draw.

  “I thought you were going to make a sculpture.”

  “And so I am. I need to make a preliminary sketch.”

  “How long does all of this take?”

  “It's difficult to say. Probably fifteen sittings.”

  “How long is a sitting?”

  “Two hours – maybe three.”

  What had she let herself in for?

  After a few minutes, he stopped drawing.

  “Remove your underwear now please.”

  “Hold on. You said you didn't need me to...”

  “Not for the preliminary sketch, but now I need to focus on the detail.”

  “Detail? That's my body you're talking about.”

  “Please hurry. We don't have all night.”

  She was at a loss. His manner once again was so casual, so matter-of-fact.

  “Don't look,” she said. “Turn around.”

  Max reached behind her back, and was about to undo the bra, but then hesitated. Why was she here? She didn't even like the man. Hadn't she called him an arrogant prick? Hadn't she come here to give him a piece of her mind? This was way beyond crazy. How ha
d he convinced her to pose for him? What was it about him?

  The bra fell open, and she allowed it to drop onto the floor. After a quick check to make sure he was still facing the other way, she stepped off the stool. Her hands were shaking as she took off her panties. Naked, she climbed back onto the stool, and crossed her legs.

  “Okay, you can look.” Her mouth was bone dry.

  “Perfect! Absolutely perfect!” As he stepped closer, she held her breath. “Such beautiful breasts, and your nipples – so hard already.”

  She felt herself blush. Why couldn't she control her own body? What kind of message were her nipples sending to him?

  “Uncross your legs please.”

  She did as he said, but was careful to keep them tight together.

  “Open them a little. I need to see everything.”

  What The Fuck?

  “Open them!”

  She slid them apart; no more than an inch or so.

  His gaze was fixed now on her shaven pussy. Her instinct was to reach down, and cover herself, but she didn't get the chance.

  “You must remain absolutely still,” he said as he resumed sketching.

  ************

  Thirty minutes later, he put down the sketch pad.

  “Very good. That will do for the first sitting.”

  “Can I dress now?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Behind the curtain once again, Max dressed as quickly as she could. Maybe the man was actually a hypnotist – how else had he convinced her to strip naked? It was over now – she wouldn't come back again. No one need ever know.

  “We should have sex,” he said from the other side of the screen.

  “What??” She pulled back the curtain. “What did you just say?”

  “I said we should have sex.”